i still feel some residue in my brain from that distinkly unpleasant encounter with the quietly threatening rulist outside the osaka garden by ono's death lotus, though much of it floated with the flotsam of the harvey storms when we at last re-entered the waters. ooh, so good, mister. i imagine the proper fellow's junk floating on the tide, floating away to some sluice on the other side. it may seem to the casual reader i am rather a heat seeking missile myself but i hasten to say i have many more loving interactions than hate. but it's the hate i gotta confront and repulse and with luck dispel.